An High Functioning Autistic facing the world honestly

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This week a major boycott erupted over the book To Siri With Love, in which a mother notes that she plans to have her autistic son sterilized. The autistic community spoke out vehemently against the idea. We are, of course, anti-eugenics and this defines eugenics. But there’s a big reason that it outrages me and it’s in that picture up there.

My name is Austin Shinn and at the end of this month it will be 20 years since my diagnosis on the spectrum. At the end of this week it will be 18 months since that beautiful child Lola Faye Shinn entered my life. During the day, I am a full time caregiver to Lola. I am as much a father to Lola as a man can be and I am writing this to defend the idea of autistic parents.

To say the least, I am utterly in love with the job. Most of my day is spent playing with Lola, keeping her fed, changing her diapers, taking her on errands. My life is the normal dad life with the exception that I spend more time than a lot of men. However with my calm temperament I feel like I’m unusually well suited to it.

And how can I not love it? Lola is a smart, hyper little lady bear who constantly surprises me. She’s vocal and though I can’t yet grasp wha she says, I get that she’s reaching out to me. I love chasing after her at the park. I love reading to her. Being a dad gives me a purpose.

There’s an order to it too. Lola has breakfast and a new diaper when she wakes up. She goes out for a bit between 9-11. She goes down for a nap at 11:30 after a good lunch. She has a snack afterwards. Her day is orderly.

Sure, there are issues. She gets sick so I have to deal with that. She has trouble sleeping so we confront that. There are times the schedule doesn’t work. She can be stubborn. These are all normal things though and being autistic has not a thing to do with it. All parents deal with these crises. Why else is Baby Blues so beloved?

I look at being an autistic parent like this: it’s irrelevant. There are tons of people who aren’t suited to being a parent who are neurotypical. They put their kids far down the list of their concerns, while I put Lola at #1 all the time. They take their kids where they don’t belong. They neglect them. I don’t do these things.

My autism hasn’t kept me from going to college. It hasn’t kept me from getting a job. It hasn’t kept me from getting married. It hasn’t kept me from an independent life. Why should it, which is really a way of describing my mindset, stop me from being a dad?

I’m mad at the idea that we can’t be decent parents because it goes again to the need to view us as damaged, nonfunctioning people. Yes, I have the occasional meltdown though I take caution not to have one in her presence. But I’m in therapy and on medication to treat these things while there are a great number of people who aren’t actively working to improve who they are who are parents. I am a functional human!

Then there’s how I interact with Lola. That’s a magical bond and there are ways I think autism might even help. Since so much of Lola’s communication is nonverbal, I’ve learned to “learn” her. I know what she’s thinking and feeling. Lola also gets through the touch barrier. I love it when she crawls all over me. It’s affection even when she jams her hands in my face.

Am I able to be Lola’s dad because I’m “high functioning” or because I’ve adapted? Probably. But I had help. Based on who I was at 13, I never could’ve considered I’d be here. The lesson in my story isn’t to see the value in the useless functioning labels but to see what proper treatment gets you.

So in the end I have to reject the premise that we can’t be parents. I’ve never been better at anything else in my entire life.

This has been an undertaking long in the works. It started in June when Web read my book, noticed there wasn’t an audiobook, and asked for permission to do so. It was my pleasure to allow him to record this and it has been the greatest pleasure working with him this last few months.

Web gave his afterword on the audiobook so I’d like to give mine. While I never had any intention of recording an audio edition of the book, I wrote the text as an extended monologue. My hope was that it would come off that way, which at least one beta reader picked up on. Ultimately though, I didn’t record one due to time and my own difficulty reading aloud. (I read far faster than I speak.)

Web put the book where it belonged. His reading brings the book to live in the exact manner I’d hoped. His inflections are the precise ones I would use. His energy is spot on. No, it’s not my voice reading it but there’s not a note I’d change. Web gave me the gift every writer wants: He showed me my work connected. Web made my story his with his incredible reading.

It’s a strange, beautiful experience to hear your life told by another. It truly is. You step back and view it in a whole new light. You become invested in your life as a story and if you’re lucky, you’re still interested.

So what’s my hope with this? Simple. I hope you listen to it. I hope you like it. I hope you share it.

It’s a lovely day. It’s cold but it’s nice. The sun is out. There’s a breeze. The smell of smoke is in the air. It’s a perfect November day.

Lola races ahead of me, as she always does. Six months ago she couldn’t walk but she runs now. Her tiny legs pound the ground as she explores the epic terrain. She’s flailing her arms as she soars, screaming and babbling. She’s incredibly happy.

I can’t help but be in awe of my little girl. She is pure energy on this morning and I’m almost jealous of her. I’m exhausted and depressed yet she’s so utterly unaware of any of this. She couldn’t comprehend any of what’s on my mind if she tried.

Lola and I act out a ritual from my childhood. I spent a lot of time at the parks with my parents. Now I’m the daddy keeping a close eye on his kid. The realization that the torch has passed hits me like a brick. I’m truly an adult now. I know that’s what others see.

But I don’t see it. I see the guy who yesterday had a meltdown over an unexpected financial hit. No way is that guy an adult. He’s not Lola but how can someone so weak be considered an adult? I’m ashamed of me.

That’s hard because that’s who I’m trying not to be. I’m trying to be the guy I’m playing now. I’m a put together father in a nice overcoat walking with his baby girl. I’m admirable in this moment. If you saw me you’d respect me.

Lola respects me. She’s loudly babbling to me. Every so often she looks up at me, asking me my thoughts on what she’s said in her baby vocabulary. Later we’ll curl up on the couch and she’ll coo as I read to her. She thinks I’m great.

And I don’t think I’m great. My confidence has been shaken of late as I’ve fought for something I wanted, an opportunity, and haven’t gotten. I made several very serious tries and was rejected every time. I feel like there’s something lacking in me.

How I wish that were my only worry this morning. I’m thinking of the news. Yet more names come out of men who’ve abused women/men. I feel nauseated at this behavior yet oddly uncomfortable. I want to condemn it, and I do, but I feel like I live in a glass house. I know I’m not perfect and I wonder what sins of mine will come to light. I’ve never done anything this bad but I’m uncomfortable thinking I’m “good.”

Then there’s my future. There were layoffs at my job. There’s change there. I’m certain I won’t be in the newspaper business within five years, despite training for a life in it. I’m not sure who I will be and that frustrates me. It make me wonder about my very identity.

My reverie is broken by Lola handing me an acorn she’s excitedly found. As I take it I look at my little girl and all questions about my identity and worth fade. I’m secondary now in my life. Lola is first.

We walk through the park. Lola runs and I let my mind go blank, just watching her.

In 1994, at the last book fair I ever attended in Houston, I picked up a comic strip book that I knew nothing about. It was a collection of Lincoln Peirce’s Big Nate strips. The strip didn’t run in Houston papers and it wouldn’t run in any paper I’d ever read. As a result the book felt like a strange artifact from another world to me.

I read it and it cracked me up. The book was one of the things I leaned on heavily during the move to Conway, in fact. Over time I memorized every word in the book. But that was the only book in the series and indeed through my childhood that was the only book that was ever published in the series. In time the book was packed away and I might vaguely recall it but nothing more.

In March 2010, I was at the library in North Little Rock when I stumbled upon a book that felt like a lightning bolt from my past. It was a hybrid comic/prose novel, the first in the Big Nate series. My childhood memories demanded I check it out so I did and within an hour consumed the book, thoroughly satisfied with an unexpectedly funny work.

7 years later, there’s now a mountain of books. Digitally, 17 years of the strip have been released in $4 collections. There’s 7 prose novels, a series which recently ended. There’s no end of collected volumes of the strip in print too. I’d argue no comic strip has been as easy to find at any time in print in fact.

So with that epic preface, let me finally get into why this strip is my comfort food. Big Nate is like almost all comic strips, a fairly formulaic strip with largely one joke that reiterates itself in various situations. What makes the strip work is it’s a funny joke: the male ego blinds itself to reality.

Over and over again, Nate Wright stumbles through a world he thinks he understands but has no idea about. He thinks he’s an art prodigy. (He’s not.) He thinks he’s a star athlete. (He’s terrible.) He thinks he’s irresistible to women. (He’s a creep.) He thinks his teachers are unfair to him. (They’re completely fair.)

This is something that I have to admit I find extremely entertaining. Nate’s continual obliviousness socially has to strike a chord with me as I frequently don’t get the world. I understand Nate Wright. I get living in your own world.

But the strip has far more virtues to offer beyond one good premise. Over 26 years, Peirce has crafted a world filled with great characters. Chad, the lovable nice guy. Gina, the brain. Artur, the “perfect” guy who is. The unseen Chester. His girlfriend Kim. These are hilarious characters.

The strip has lost something over time. There was initially a greater focus on Nate’s art and I loved that. I do miss Doctor Cesspool. But I get why it’s gone. The strip evolved.

What it became truly is wonderful. Big Nate isn’t adult and I love it for that. It’s a middle school comedy. But it’s a funny, smart one that makes me happy it’s there. It takes me back without condescension. And it was worth the wait.

This is something that should’ve been the very first post I wrote on this blog. So much of this site amounts to me trying to say to others the things I wish I’d heard growing up. However I’ve never really condensed that into one entry. I think it’s time. I can’t reach back in time and tell myself this advice but I can reach out to kids struggling in my situation today. So here goes.

To a middle school student struggling with life with autism,

I want you to know that I’ve been there. To a degree I was one of the first. My generation was the one that started to understand what autism is and that it impacts a larger number than thought. As a result I got a lot of imperfect advice. My advice is also imperfect but it comes from a place of experience.

First off, I know it’s hard to be you and anybody who tells you otherwise is wrong. It’s hard to be a “normal” middle schooler so we have it extra hard. Middle school is a painful time. Know that your feelings are completely valid. Yes, it is stressful. No it’s not just you wanting attention.

I’m sure your social life is hard. After all you’ve had it pounded into your head that being popular matters. You’re probably lonely with only a few friends. My advice: only worry about those few friends. Being popular is exhausting and ultimately meaningless. The few friends you have matter. Besides you’re so close to high school where you’ll find your world. Have hope. You’ll flourish there.

I hope you’re not being bullied but I’m all too aware you likely are. I was. Being bullied hurt and it will leave scars. But it won’t continue. It rarely follows you to high school. You’re angry and irritable. So is everyone else. It’ll ease up. But for now, a counselor is useful to have.

You’re probably really frustrated by all the rules of life that don’t make much sense. Well, I don’t blame you but I’ve got bad news. Just because we see how silly these rules are doesn’t mean that we get to ignore them. We’ve got to abide by them just like everyone else. Just play along and laugh about it in your head.

You probably have something you’re into. Hold onto that because if you’re still interested in a few years, that’s your career. Seriously, whatever you’re really passionate about now you can find a job in. We’re even popular with employers due to that. I followed a love of newspapers to a job at one for example.

Cherish that you live in the technology age. You are so lucky. I had to fight legally to use a computer for my work while you’re handed tablets. So many of our struggles with fine motor are erased because you get to use these miracles. Be happy.

You worry about being an adult. I know. I did. Here’s what nobody tells you: it doesn’t happen all at once. Take growing up in steps. You’ll get there. Go to college, even leaving home if you can. Find a job close by your home. Build your life in steps. But don’t fear that you can’t do it. You can.

No advice I have is more important than this. It does get better. I know it’s hard to see now but it truly does. Whatever bothers you now, you will outgrow it. It’s possible to do well. I thought I was never going to get married or have a child. I’ve done both. I have my own life. I didn’t think I could do it. No matter how much you think you can’t, you’re going to be surprised. In time you’ll find yourself doing just fine. But it takes time.

Life is hard. It never does make sense. But that’s not an autism problem. That’s a human problem. Keep fighting. Know that you matter. You’ll get where you’re going. I believe it.

Last night I attempted to explain to someone why autistic people hate Autism Speaks. With another person (who did a better job than me), I laid out a case that they were a hate group that does no good for us. And what did I get? Ignored and told I shouldn’t judge a charity by bad people in it.

Here’s the thing. I explained clearly that they were not a charity, and even cursory research shows they have an abysmal record, and that they as an organization were bad. And I was shut down because they were believed over me.

This is a patten I need to discuss. Not all but far too many Neurotypical people trust “experts” over us. Experts can be teachers. They can be researchers. They’re often parents. What they never are, save for Dr. Grandin, are us.

I get it. Autism is a mental condition. It’s a lens that distorts our world view. I understand distrust of a distorted perspective. At least in theory.

Here’s the reality though. When we discuss what it feels like to be autistic, there’s no distortion. We’re clearly laying out how it feels to be us. We’re telling you exactly what’s going on in our heads. A parent can live with a child for years and never know what we know.

We’re also rather skilled at research. It’s funny how being an expert on various subjects is a stereotype of the condition up to the point where we discuss that condition. Then we know nothing. But seriously we have researched ourselves more thoroughly than any other subject. We have to to survive.

We are also quite good at expressing this. I’m far from the only blogger out there. There’s tons of us. Many are better at this than I am. So we’re quite loud to be clear.

But this is the most important point: it’s basic decency to listen to us. We’re the ones living with this. We’re the ones affected despite the hype. Just do the right thing and assume we know what we’re saying.

It’s been a long time since I’ve written either a review or a blog entry for this site and I’m not high on that being the case. I’ve been silent because to be blunt I’ve not had much drive to write. I could address my life but it’s been a lot of dad work. I could write a review but beyond the horror of Batman and Harley Quinn, I haven’t felt like writing on film. I’ve needed a break.

And who can blame me? It’s been a long, tiring year for all of us. I don’t know very many people who’ve had much drive to do anything. I think society as a whole is trying to rebuild. I’m just one of them.

During my break I’ve had fun. I’ve seen a few solid films on video such as Kong: Skull Island and Shin Godzilla. I’ve rested when I can. I’ve taken Lola on early morning drives when I can’t. I’ve been in therapy. I’ve been on my meds. I’ve reread all of Big Nate and read all of Retail.

I’ve stepped back. But you can’t step back for too long. So it is that I got my Moviepass and I’m hoping to go once a week. There’s a ton of autism media on its way and I need to watch/review. There is a huge, massive project hopefully hitting very soon from me and a collaborator.